Box of Sharp Objects
by Jessica-Doom
Summary: A collection of short drabbles created from prompts in the Facebook group DRARRY: fanfiction and fanart.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This will be a collection of Harry Potter drabbles (mostly Drarry as they were written in a Drarry Facebook group). It will be marked completed, but I will constantly be adding to it. Please enjoy and do be sure to leave reviews!**

 **Prompt: 'Blue'**

* * *

There was a small fleck of blue in Draco Malfoy's right eye.

A small fleck of blue in a sea of silver.

A small fleck of flaw in his perfect composure.

"Are you finally going to hit me, Potter?"

Suddenly remembering himself, Harry snapped back to. He shook his head, taking a step back. Pulling out of Malfoy's gaze with a shuttered breath. "Uh…no. _No_." He took five more steps away, shaking out his fists. Shaking off the taunting.

Shaking off the little bit of blue inside the eyes of Draco Fucking Malfoy. Shaking off the way that made him feel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt: 'Bridge'**

* * *

"Why did you do it?"

Harry, caught loosening his tie as the evening traffic rushed on behind him, was rather unsurprised to find that he had been followed after the end of the trial. He smiled softly, hollow and lacking any real meaning. His wearisome façade was itching to fade and he was unable to deny it the pleasure. He took his time in rolling his shoulders and settling his forearms against the cold railing of the Tower Bridge. Letting the stress wash away with the lapping of the gentle waves below.

"Because you deserve to be saved, Draco."


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt: Write the fluffiest, sweetest, teeth rotting drabble you can come up with.**

* * *

It was their first date. It was their first date and Harry was nervous. More nervous than when he'd asked the man out in the first place. Which was hard to imagine. But sitting on the edge of Draco's bed, the position of his body surer than he felt, he couldn't deny the dangerous pounding of his heart.

"We don't have to," Draco whispered, his voice velvet and tempting.

Harry couldn't remove his eyes from every inch of exposed skin. Creamy and shining in the barest moonlight. His knees shaky, he stood and threaded their fingers. "But I want to…."


	4. Chapter 4

**Prompt: 'Beautiful'**

* * *

The curve of his spine.

The shape of his lips, set in shock.

The lust-blasted hue to the silver of his eyes.

Draco Malfoy was beautiful. And he didn't even know the half of it…. On the outside, he was confident. He was cool and suave and he knew that everyone knew it. But he didn't even realize. He had no idea of the beauty he truly had when he was vulnerable like this. Spread out and drenched with a thick sheen of sweat. Begging on the few words he could manage to string together.

Fucking gorgeous and Harry's alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Prompt: Picture challenge - a photo of a red umbrella on a rain-soaked walkway**

* * *

Despite the rain having ceased its fall an hour ago, Draco still insisted on the red umbrella. He obviously wanted to stand out.

Draco never wanted to blend in.

Perhaps that was why Harry loved him. He didn't have the luxury himself of even attempting anonymity. And Draco was always voluntarily right there with him.

Harry stopped abruptly on the footbridge to the park, eyeing the man halting beside him. Before he could finish the question on his lips, Harry was gracing those lips with his own. The garish red umbrella clattering to the wood on a note of finality.


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompt: Quote - "can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be? (k.w.)**

* * *

Sometimes the best nights were those where they didn't do a damn thing. The nights where they would lie awake in bed, talking about nothing and everything. The big stuff. The little stuff. And those little batches of comfortable silence in between…. Those were Harry's favorite.

"Can you remember who you were…? Before the world told you who you _should_ be."

Draco's words were soft and sleepy, moving in and out of full consciousness. But they were powerful enough to get Harry's heart beating unnervingly. Draco squirmed beside him, just as unsettled by his own question. He wasn't just asking aloud – it was a thought directed inward, as well.

"You first," Harry whispered, his heart loud in his ears.

"When I was five…I told my father I wanted to be a chocolatier. People smile when they eat chocolate. I wanted to make people smile. Smiles were rare when I was young…." The hollow smile gracing Draco's lips spoke of the fondness of his memories.

Harry wished he could look into his past with such lightness. "All I ever wanted to grow up to be…was real. I just wanted to matter. And now…I do. I don't want to remember before this."


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompt: Anything goes, but it must be in an AU setting**

* * *

Every single one of Harry's nerves were buzzing beneath his skin. His hands shook and his he couldn't straighten his head. "Can I…can I get you a drink, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, a shake attached to his vocal chords.

The man, an absolute fucking dream under his stoic composure, shook his head and made a few notes on his clipboard. "I have a latte out in the car, thanks. And call me Draco." He seemed confident. Harry had yet to determine if that was good or bad. "Everything does seem to be up to standard…."

 _Good_. Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. "Does that mean I've passed? That I can start fostering kids?"

Draco shrugged, scratching one last note before tucking the clipboard under his arm. "It looks like you have a good path paved for it." His smile was tight, but filled Harry with hope nonetheless. "Just keep doing what you've been doing."

"Thank you," Harry said on an excited exhale. Everything in his hard-knock life had led to this. Using his harsh past to do something good.

"No need." Draco pulled a business card from his pocket. "Call me if you need anything. _Anything_. Even a drink."


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt: Any song can become a prompt - "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac**

* * *

They used to joke that we were chained together. We were inseparable. Sometimes it felt like a life sentence.

But that was in the beginning. That was when the shackles of love still felt like a thrilling adventure. Back when the jokes were funny because they were true. Back before the chain began to rust. Back before it inevitably broke.

For days, the wind had been howling. It felt like an omen. I couldn't help but to stand out in it any chance I had. Something bad was coming and I was helpless to stop it. So I may as well immerse myself in it.

"Sorry, got caught up at work. Why are you...? Harry come inside. You'll blow away."

Slipping an easy, fake smile onto my lips, I turned. "It's fine," I lied, feeling just as dirty for allowing Draco to get away with it. "I'm just glad you're home." I stepped closer, slipping my arms around him, breathing in deeply. Taking in the scent of another man's cologne.

"Me, too," Draco whispered, his lips in my hair. His arms enveloping me tight in return. Trying desperately to fit that chain back together.

Damn his love...

Damn his lies.


	9. Chapter 9

**Prompt: Kids say the darndest things**

* * *

There was probably a reason why serious conversations didn't happen in a packed restaurant. In addition to the general cacophony one would expect in that setting - the clinking of dishes, several other conversations, the drunk man at the bar - there was also a rushing in Draco's ears. An overwhelming feeling that others were listening and judging.

And there was, of course, the toddler seated in his lap who would not stop babbling his story about the restaurant's decorations. The fish on the wall was dead but not stinky but the lady with the cowperson hat still didn't like him and neither did that set of handlebars over there and on and on and on...

Until Draco had just had enough. "Scorpius, shush," he whispered, cheeks flushing red in an equal mix of frustration and embarrassment.

"F'ck no, Daddy! You shut up!" Scorpius yelled, loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. He threw his little hands up over Draco's lips with a severely furrowed brow. "You talk enough! It my turn!"

Biting back a grin, Harry took the same hint and swallowed the rest of his words. Storing them for finish later. "He does talk too much, doesn't he?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Prompt: 3 Word Challenge - 'Mist', 'Sweet', 'Attack'**

* * *

The moon was finally waning. With it, Remus was finally returning to himself. For now. It never lasted long and he was always left exhausted. To be honest, he never truly felt like himself. It was like he was always chasing after the attacks for half of the month and desperately running away from it for the other.

He was always running.

"Y'alright, Moony?"

Snapping out of his daze, Remus looked up from staring at his hands. "I'm good," he muttered.

Sirius didn't give the appearance of believing him. There was that same skeptical look he gave every time Remus said he was fine. Which was why they were having breakfast outside this morning in the thick mist coming off the lake. James and Peter had Arithmacy class, making it just the two of them. Sirius said they could use some fresh air, but their clothes were soaked and Remus felt that might be doing more harm than good. "You're not eating," Sirius intoned gently, picking at his own toast.

"You're not, either," Remus chuckled lightly, laying back in the dewy grass with his eyes closed against the rising sun. "I have to wonder which one of us is more stuck in our head."

Remus felt the bristle of Sirius laying down beside him. All pretense of breakfast forgotten, Sirius threaded their fingers together. Trying to remain cool even though his heart was suddenly racing, Remus opened his eyes again and looked down at their joined hands. They were close, sure, and sometimes a bit too close. But this wasn't just close. This was intimate. Sweet and intentional.

That could just be wishful thinking, though. Remus closed his eyes again, resisting the urge to question it. It felt nice. He wasn't ready to deny that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Prompt: Friday the 13th - something unlucky**

* * *

Harry was certain that this was the happiest day of his life. Every few seconds, he was throwing Draco cheesy grins from across the waiting room. In his own restrained way, Draco was excited, as well. Harry wasn't alone. He just didn't show it so obviously. And his excitement might have been closer to anxiety. His smile was small and tight. He was guzzling down coffee like it was a life source. Every few minutes he switched to a completely new magazine like he just couldn't concentrate. He was a quiet mess. Except for when he huffed, "How long does this _take_?" The only answer Harry could provide was a bemused shrug.

Had they known what was coming, Harry in hindsight was sure he would have worried a bit more. Had he know how violently fate would remind them of their unlucky standing in the world…. Had he known how it easy it was to lose the thing they had spent these past several months obsessing over….

Well he wasn't sure what he would have done. But there _had_ to have been something they could have done differently.

The girl's mother came into the waiting room wearing a shining grin. Harry instantly thought good news and jumped from his seat. "Is it over?" he asked in a whisper, reaching tenderly for the woman's hands. "How is he?"

A dark, volatile pit opened in Harry's heart when she cringed away. Her smile fell and suddenly she looked severe. "I'm sorry," she muttered, looking anything but. "She fell in love the instant she saw him."

In a distant dimension from Harry's current headspace, he heard Draco's devastated mewl. He felt a shaking chest pressed against his back. Harry's worst unrealized fear was suddenly very real and he could feel his heart shattering.


	12. Chapter 12

**Prompt: Dialogue - "I should have chosen you when I had the chance."**

* * *

"I should have chosen you when I had the chance."

"I think it's a bit late for that," Harry muttered, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone.

In a rather undignified, un-Malfoy-like manner, Draco stuck his tongue out and aimed his broom in the opposite direction.

It was Christmas afternoon and every one of them was moving sluggishly after filling up on Molly Weasley's absolute feast. This was probably not the best time for a pick-up Quidditch match. With this in mind, they had eliminated a few positions – Seekers and Beaters. Which meant Harry and Draco were both out of their element playing Chasers. Even so, Harry was rather excelling and the heat at the tips of Draco's ears betrayed just how he felt about passing on adding his boyfriend to his team.

Harry's team, led by Charlie (who had apparently been league-worthy back at Hogwarts) and furthered in excellence by Bill and Teddy the budding prodigy was up by nearly a hundred points. Mostly because the team Draco had chosen - Ginny, Ron, and George – couldn't keep their heads focused. The Quaffle soared right past Ron's ear as he was caught in a fit of laughter. _Now_ they were up by a hundred.

Draco sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. A few stray snowflakes graced his flushed cheeks and he resolved right then to give up. He'd lost the bet. Had he chosen Harry for his team, there would be no bet. But now…when they arrived home that night, he was most certainly resigning to having to give Harry his well-earned prize.

Harry had earned that last slice of treacle tart fair and square. And the heart-stopping kiss as soon as their feet hit the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

**Prompt: Photo - "I still love you asshole" written in black marker on a wrist**

* * *

It had been…a rough night.

All of their nights were rough, lately. They weren't connecting. Something was amiss between them. Harry blamed everyone else – work, the Ministry, the Prophet, friends, family…everyone but himself.

Somewhere within, he knew he was at fault. That the harsh words leaving his mouth came from him alone. That lashing out at Draco day in and day out for no reason was really just a testament to the stress he silently carried with him. That their fight the night before – the one that ended in Draco stalking out near tears, slamming the front door behind him – had very little to do with anyone else.

Harry's guilt felt comfortable that morning. The puffiness around his eyes and the ache in his tired bones felt quite right. And he was rather determined to stay tucked between the covers for the duration of the day, lost in the memory of the insults he'd thrown.

Until in the barest morning light he caught the black ink on his wrist. In the same instant, the unmistakable sound of Draco's humming signified he had started breakfast.

 **I STILL LOVE YOU ASSHOLE**

Signifying that he was home and giving Harry another, undeserved chance.


	14. snow white sheets

**A/N: This was written for a challenge in the DRARRY: fanfiction and canary Facebook group - a less than 500 word piece based on the given picture. The picture is a bed with rumpled white sheets.**

* * *

Considering what they'd done, the sheets still seemed too white. Teddy had expected them to look different. He'd expected the entire world to change, to be honest. The Earth should have shifted on its axis by now. What they'd done….

Breathing long and slow through his nose, Teddy tore his gaze from the rumpled sheets. They'd been purchased in Diagon Alley – a flat-warming gift from his too-generous godfather – so he had to reason they might be enchanted. It was the only excuse that made sense with the hazy chaos swimming through his head. Behind him on the stove, the kettle began to scream and it felt only fitting. Teddy truly felt he could do with a good, long scream himself right then.

"You know, there's a spell for that."

Despite his shame, Teddy couldn't stop the coming grin. "Magic has a way of tainting the taste of tea," he explained and poured two cups over waiting tea leaves.

In stark contrast to the bedroom, James Potter with his face full of freckles was a real and vivid stain poised just so on the back of Teddy's sofa. Aware, as always, of the way his body screamed confidence. But Teddy knew the tension in that boy's - for he was no more than a boy at barely seventeen – shoulders. He knew the tension well now. And he knew how aggressively those shoulders could shake at the promise of being able to let go of it all.

As if reading Teddy's mind, James smiled back while squaring said shoulders. "It's eating you up inside, isn't it?"

Going red, Teddy nodded. "I never should have done that…."

James was coming closer and every step he took quickened Teddy's breathing. He quickly thrust a hand up between them at the absolute last second, his stomach oily at even the most minimal contact. But every other cell in him was buzzing, excited at the idea of more. "We both had a hand in this," James reassured, closing his hand over Teddy's fingers. Digging that contact further into his chest. "I kissed back. I asked for more. I laid down on your sheets and asked you to…to do it."

The words sounded awkward on his tongue. James was still so young. There was no way he could have known what it was he really asked for the night before. And Teddy should have known better. Teddy was the adult, as much as he still felt like a teenager himself in times like these. With his palms sweating and his pulse racing. With the anxiety eating him from the inside out while his most basic desires demanded he simply take what he craved.

James' lips were mere centimeters away. Teddy knew now what he tasted like. He was helpless not to cave in to the craving now. "Your dad's gonna kill me," were the last few words he added in protest before closing the space. Wrapping James in his arms and his heart and his entire being.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: The challenge was to base a work off a romance novel cover. The novel I was given was "The Girl with the Make-Believe Husband" by Julia Quinn.**

* * *

 _ **The Girl with the Make-Believe Husband:**_

 _Does the young Mrs. Malfoy know what her husband really does in the night?_

Astoria had been staring at the headline all morning. Waiting. Biding her time. Draco had rolled in rather late the night before and was unlikely to wake before noon. For hours, she'd been fuming over the Prophet's article and the way they painted her – a sickly shut-in young mother with a scandalous bastard for a husband. Pathetic. This was what her life had been reduced to.

This was her legacy.

Her anger had been festering for hours by the time she heard the familiar slap of Draco's house slippers on the kitchen tile. The sound grated her nerves like it never had before, causing the snap decision of throwing the newspaper in her husband's face the instant he entered the dining room. Likely still half asleep, Draco merely blinked and bent down to retrieve the scattered papers. "Morning, love," he mumbled and dropped into the chair opposite.

"You _promised_ me, Draco!" Astoria shouted. The sound of subtle stirrings echoed from upstairs, but a crying toddler was last on her mind. That crying toddler was half the reason she felt like this in the first place.

Without a lick of remorse or urgency, Draco righted the newspaper and scanned the headline. His eyes flicked up to meet Astoria's for just a moment before returning to the article with a furrowed brow. "Astoria…. I'm so sorry."

Sighing heavily, Astoria focused her gaze on the Prophet as well. On the image just below the headline and on the fire and fury she never knew she was capable of. "You promised me no one would find out," she whispered, trying to allow the fire to fizzle out.

"We were pissed. I lost my focus. I didn't check to see if anyone was watching…." Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes flicking upwards a moment. "And I brought him home…."

This arrangement with Potter (of all people) hadn't been created lightly. Astoria only agreed to it after her terms had been negotiated – they would stay married, no one else would ever find out, and Draco would have to get her pregnant first. Their marriage wasn't born from love and Astoria couldn't deny that it felt better to merely be this man's friend. She didn't need companionship. All she needed was to please both their families while under a safe and steady roof. Especially once Scorpius was born and Astoria's blood malady ruined her.

Had she known their world would find out like this, she definitely would have hesitated before entering into their little charade. "Fix it," Astoria muttered while standing. Just barely keeping herself from tearing upstairs and throwing Potter out of her husband's bed and out of their lives forever. This wasn't the woman she had agreed to be. "And go bring Potter coffee; he's going to need it before you show him what Rita Skeeter has to say about him this time."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: The challenge was to take your emotion for the day and apply it a work. It was Saturday at the bookstore, so of course I was extra anxious. This is a follow-up to the previous Jeddy piece I did.**

* * *

It just felt like everybody knew. The woman at the corner store who complimented his sunshiny yellow hair. The kid on the sidewalk who wouldn't stop staring. And now Harry who kept asking him questions about his life.

Of course, these were all normal day-to-day things that wouldn't usually send him to the edge. But today….

The image of James' tanned body spread out over his snow white sheets was still vividly fresh in Teddy's mind. And he was _sure_ someone must be able to see that.

"Did everything go alright with James, then?"

Teddy realized how suspicious his violent head whip might come off far later than he could stop it happening. With wide eyes, he looked up at his godfather and nodded his head like a child caught in the cookie jar. "Y-yeah," he attempted to recover, smoothing a hand over his expression to soften it, hoping his hair wasn't roving telling colors. "Just played some Exploding Snap. Talked. Tried out that new place across from my flat. Pretty mediocre little café…."

Thankfully, 'cognizant' wasn't exactly in Harry's vocabulary. He smiled and said he was glad they had fun, but otherwise seemed not to notice Teddy literally sweating in his seat. "He's a teenager, you know, so he brushed me off when I asked if he had a good time. Guess I'm just being nosy. He doesn't talk much to Gin and me these days."

Teddy was tempted to follow in those footsteps after this conversation. Maybe James had the right idea. "He's a good kid," he said down towards his untouched sandwich, that word tasting dirty on his tongue. "I don't think you have much to worry about with him. Honestly, he's far too blunt to be the hiding type."

"And if he was hiding something…." Teddy's ears pinked and he had to measure every breath. "If it was important, you would tell me, right?"

Teddy had never and would never betray the confidence of any of the Potter children. Well, not unless it affected their safety or wellbeing, of course. But parents, real or acquired, never wanted to hear that. "Yeah, definitely," Teddy lied smoothly. It felt like ants were crawling over his skin, tickling every little hair and setting his teeth on edge. It was enough to make him rethink continuing these weekly lunch plans. "Jamie's not hiding anything I'm aware of."

It wasn't a miracle but it certainly was a relief when Harry changed the subject to Cannons' stats. James stayed at the back of Teddy's mind for the rest of his visit. Rationally, he knew the boy was out shopping with Ginny as the Potter children always were on this day of the week during summer holiday, but he couldn't help but to check the doorway every few minutes. Hoping for a selfish glimpse. Dying to steal a secret kiss and withering away on the inside every single time he remembered how often he'd be lying about all this in the coming future.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: The challenge was to give our boys new jobs. I recently read a novella by Dorthe Nors where she wrote the entire piece in headlines. It came across more poetic to me and I took inspiration in that.**

* * *

Harry served drinks at a Muggle tavern.

Serving drinks was Harry's life now.

The great Harry Potter was a mere bartender.

Harry liked serving drinks.

There were no expectations in serving drinks.

Harry took orders.

He made orders.

He delivered orders.

When Harry did this job, nothing was about him.

He heard a lot of other people's stories.

He heard their woes.

It was easy.

Harry Potter, of all people, needed easy.

Draco Malfoy needed easy, too.

This offended Harry in the beginning.

How dare _Malfoy_ interfere in this quiet sanctum?

And how did Malfoy find this tavern in the first place?

Malfoy didn't have the same spite he once did.

Malfoy took Harry's anger and shrugged it off.

Like it didn't even bother him any longer.

They were no longer school children.

That was a fact plainly stated over frosty mugs at midnight.

They were adults and they could both use a notion of peace.

Harry agreed.

Draco smiled.

Harry figured he had never seen something so genuine in his life.

Harry made drinks.

Draco washed the spent dishes.

After hours, Harry and Draco formed a friendship.

Harry told himself it was a friendship.

Draco made a passing comment about the two of them being perfectly suited for one another.

Draco made comments like this often after Harry laughed at the first one.

Draco was interested in blokes and

Harry had yet to figure out what he wanted.

One night, Draco decided to force Harry to figure it out.

Draco kissed him.

Harry thought he might have seen sparks, but

Maybe that was the whiskey talking.

Or maybe….

Maybe Draco was right.

Just this once.

Maybe they did deserve one another.


End file.
